


Wedding

by Star_dancer54



Series: Dear god old stuff. Like, seriously old. [23]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pining, Post Endless Waltz, and a few drops of angst, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-23
Updated: 2005-08-23
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_dancer54/pseuds/Star_dancer54
Summary: There isn’t anything I can do. So I stand here, and watch from the corner of my eye the man I’d been in love with since I was fifteen as he stands beside me and waits for his bride to come down the aisle. I feel like I’m dying, and it’s hard to breathe. He glances at me in concern, and it makes me hurt more. I smile at him.





	Wedding

There isn’t anything I can do. So I stand here, and watch from the corner of my eye the man I’d been in love with since I was fifteen as he stands beside me and waits for his bride to come down the aisle. I feel like I’m dying, and it’s hard to breathe. He glances at me in concern, and it makes me hurt more. I smile at him.

His small answering smile feels like jagged glasses against bare nerves. But then he turns back to the aisle. I close my eyes and focus on breathing. Inhale, exhale, and open eyes. I absently notice that one of my other friends keeps rubbing at his chest. I close my eyes again and try to shut down. Try to block out thoughts, emotions, everything, so that I could be the perfect best man for my best friend.

Finally, the mask pulls up. As long as my mind is running through many different paths, I can zone out comfortably, and not worry. Not think. Not study the fact that I’m losing someone I never had a chance to kiss, hold, or say, “I love you” to.

Here she comes. I can admit that she is beautiful, exquisite in white. She is… flawless.

Unlike me.

I smile widely at the young woman, and she smiles faintly back, but focuses on her groom. She frowns a bit, analyzing him for… something. She then smiles again, and clasps his proffered arm, and they turn to the priest.

I zone out again almost as soon as he starts talking. I come back to earth when I hear a soft sob from next to me. I turn and notice that the pain in his chest must have gotten worse. His mate lightly touches his hand, and my friend shakes his head. His pale eyes lock on his mate’s darker ones, and silent communication flicks between them. They then turn to me.

Oh, god. Now I know what’s happening to him.

It’s my fault.

I am glad that everyone else’s attention is fixed on the couple at the altar. My hand finds its way to Quatre’s elbow, and I tuck my face close to his ear to breathe, “I’m sorry, Q.”

There are tears shining so brightly in his eyes, and he chokes out, “Oh, Duo…”

Heero glances in our direction and Quatre nearly doubles over at the pain that is drowning me. One of Quatre’s pale hands is clawed over his heart, the other held tightly by Trowa.

I slam up as many barriers between my emotions and smile at Heero. He turns back to the front. I squeeze Quatre’s elbow a bit and withdraw my hand.

A chill numbness sets in, and I embrace it.

The priest pauses and glances at Quatre. He then continues, “Those that have any reason-”

“I object.”

The voice is not mine, though Trowa fixes steady green eyes on me. We turn towards the speaker.

It’s the bride.

What the fuck?

She spins to face Heero. Her eyes are so very sad… maybe Quatre’s pain is not only from me?

“Heero, why are you doing this?”

My best friend blinks. “What? What do you mean?”

She steps closer to Heero, and presses a delicate hand to his cheek. “Why would I marry a man who is in love with someone else?”

He’s really confused now. I am staring. Quatre is pressed against my side, as both Trowa and I are holding him up.

“What do you mean? I love you.”

She smiles at him. “I don’t doubt that. But you aren’t in love with me, are you?”

Complete bewilderment is written all over his body and stance, for the few that can read it to see. “Is there a difference?”

“Yes, there is,” she says softly, and I can see the tears that are forming in her eyes as clearly as I could see those in Quatre’s. She tugs on the tip of some of his bangs, kisses his cheek, and whispers something in his ear.

His entire body stills.

She draws back, crying, and walks sedately towards the exit.


End file.
